Hourglass
by SLKestrel
Summary: CH 10 UP! What kind of secrets does Pietro keep hidden from past and present? the xmen evo characters are about to find out after they find him mutilated in the snow. Read for a better experience. MY WRITING IMPROVES EACH CHAPTER! PLEASE R
1. The Letter

**A/N: Disclaimer- so far, I own nothing of this fic.**

**Please review! I have no easy way of how to describe this fic, but there will be plenty of X-men, rivalry, crushes, angst, mystery, etc. Maybe a bit of torture, but don't be intimidated by that. I'd freak myself out if I did too much. Have fun.**

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_**WINTER AT THE BROTHERHOOD HOUSE**_

"Would I die for you? Well here's your answer in spades," sang Lance to a _My Chemical Romance _song while trying to figure out the fingerings for his guitar. "Shotgun sinners, Wild eyed jokers, Got you in my sights. Gun it wh- OW!"

Wanda grabbed one ear from the headphones and yelled his name. Obviously, she hadn't gotten through to him any other way earlier. She frowned down on him with one eyebrow raised as if he offered to eat a spider off her wall. "Your singing's incredible," she mocked sardonically.

"What Wanda? I'm trying to figure out the-"

"And I'm trying to find out where Pietro went!" she cut in.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're not gonna go trying to kill him again... right?"

"Lance, for the last time, I'm not out to hurt him anymore! Now that my memories are fully intact we were able to work it out. I just want to know where he is. There's supposed to be a blizzard coming and I-"

In that split-second, the front door slammed open, slammed closed, and a gust of wind went by them both to reveal Pietro now sitting next to Lance. "Miss me?" Pietro asked, not hoping for an answer.

"Where have you been! Number one- a freakin blizzard's coming, and you're skipping along-"

"I don't skip..." Pietro interjected.

"-in the snow." Wanda continued, "Secondly, there are agents out there looking for mutants! You think they can't detect you? Only the boarding house is covered!"

"I'm too fast for _them_ to catch me." Pietro grinned playfully. "You still listening to that music?" he asked lance. Lance glared.

Pietro dusted off the flakes of snow off his jet-black scarf Tabitha had bought for him last year. In another second, he was by the door again and his jacket was dripping the floor from the hanger.

Wanda marched right up to him, biting her lower lip. Now Pietro was a little worried. Sure, they had worked things out, but even happy siblings hurt each other now and then. She grabbed his turtleneck by the shoulders and pulled him to be directly eyelevel with her (he had grown four inches taller than her recently).

"Don't be so uppity, Pietro, or I swear on all that is sacred I will throw you out right in front of those agents!" Pietro gulped.

_Crap..._ he thought. "Okay. Just-don't-give-me-a-curfew."

"A what?" Lance said, pulling off his headphones again.

"A... curfew..." Wanda thought. "You know what Pietro? That's one of the only good ideas you've ever spoken. Every day you must be back by 6:30-"

"WHAT? It's-barely-even-dark-then!" Pietro moaned.

"Or the agents get to haul you back here," Wanda said painfully slow for the speed demon.

He reluctantly agreed and sped upstairs. Well, at least she didn't hex him out the window like other days. He was glad those days were out the window, too.

In his room was an envelope with "Oretip F. Moxafim" written in perfect cursive in blue ink.

"Oh, lovely." He whispered. He gravely opened the neatly-glued envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper with a bunch of lines resembling a barcode. This was no barcode, though, and Pietro knew how to read it. He tilted the paper so that all the lines were squished. This was readable. Whatever color was in his face just left at the sight of the few words written. "Not now... please..." he wimpered.

But this was urgent; letters like this had horrific consequences if ignored for more than a day. Knowing that, Pietro sped out from his window. Wanda couldn't know. He couldn't do that to her. Not like this.

No...

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**A/N: Do you likey? I think I write a lot better at night (I wrote this at night). If you have any questions, suggestions, or critiques, let me know! the path of this fic is still pretty open with a main plot, though. I do accept critiques, cuz I learn from my mistakes, but please keep them a little below flames. Thanx! Please review, even if it just says- "great fic" (just an example ;D) More chappies on the way!**


	2. Hidden

**A/N: HEY! MORE REVIEWS, PEOPLE! aniway, another chappie. I'm makin progress like vegetables! wait... that's produce... have fun reading! short chapter, but I'm writing one more at the very minute this was/ (is?) published. L8r. _R&R!_**

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The X-van rolled silently on the snow-ridden road. Even the tire chain's clinking was hardly recognizable. Then again, the blizzard's brutal winds covered up any sound besides speech. At least they could see out the windows! The surroundings were a lot clearer than expected, too.

"I'm just _worried_, Scott. I don't know why." Jean looked out the window.

Scott scooted closer to her and hesitated to put his arm around her. He always loved her, but it was just… he couldn't explain it. He just wasn't good with relationships like this. Scott wasn't oblivious and he wasn't a telepath, yet he knew when she needed him. He then hugged her.

"Shhhh-shh. I'm here, Jean." He said. Her head fell on his shoulder.

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**THE BROTHERHOOD HOUSE**

Toad bounced up the stairs. "Yo, P'etro! Grub's on the table downstairs!"

no answer

"Pietro?" Todd opened the door. The window was open and no one was there. "Oh… nah, this can't be good, yo."

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**BACK IN THE X-VAN**

Jean jumped up, startled.

"What?" Scott asked.

"Stop the van."

"Wha? Why?"

"**Now**." She ordered.

Storm, who was driving, stopped. Jean ran out of the vehicle.

"Storm! Slow the blizzard!"

"JEAN! What did I do!"

Jean gasped. She gave him an incredibly apologetic and covered her gaping mouth. "No, no… I'm sorry, Scott. It was **definitely** not you. I'm sorry. It's just-"

"What, Jean?"

"Someone's here."

**A/N: awesome? not awesome? I WANT TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS! (not exactly _telepathically- _I swear!) REVIEW! **

**Flamable: 1) Thanx 4 even reviewing! my 1st reviewer! YAYNESS! 2) ur author name is awesome! I LOVE fire. 3) the song was Hang 'Em High. I don't know My Chem's background too well, but I love their sound. thanx again.**


	3. found the hideee

**A/N: Okay, most of chappies are gonna be this short & a bit longer and even longer if I get an idea spark… thanx! Keep reviewing people! This chappies a little grousom, but NOTHING you guys can't handle. This is like Stephen King for _toddlers!_ In other words, creepy, but not much. Just thought I'd give u a heads up. **

**PS- On my 1st chappie I said torture… doubt I'll do that… there's gonna be a LOT of knock-down-drag-out, but no capture stuff. REVIEW!**

**FOUND THE HIDE-EE!**

"What? Waddya mean someone's here?" Scott inquired to Jean. What could she mean? After all, the only people they could see for _miles_ was just them.

"Hold on and I'll show you." Jean smiled at him.

"Is our hide-ee (**A/N: only word I could think of that resembled the significance and purpose similar to the word "escapee". Get it? … I didn't think that would work… : )** dangerous?" he asked.

"_Potentially_ dangerous, but our "hide-ee" is not right now for two reasons. 1- _he's_ unconscious. 2- he's surrounded by three well-trained X-men. Honestly, Scott…" she laughed playfully.

Although Scott hated being ridiculed or questioned of his overly-cautious manner, he couldn't help but smile whenever Jean did. Her genuine, innocent smile and eyes that could light up a room (though literally true, as well…) could not insult him.

"Hey, Storm?" Jean shouted.

Storm's attention diverted to Jean.

"Couldya clear some of the snow off here? Not the road, but the sides of it." Jean motioned to the edges of the road.

About two inches of snow were blown off everything with a carefully manipulated wind.

Jean shrieked. "HOLY—!" Scott shouted. Beneath those two inches of snow was an entire lake of blood, hardly warm enough to melt the snow, surprisingly.

"Oh, sh-------rieking gumballs," Jean awed. She slid on her leather gloves that matched her X-man uniform. "Scott! Give me a hand here!" Jean dug her hands into the scarlet liquid (God knows why she didn't use her telekinesis…) as Scott ran up beside her and started to doggy-dig away the surrounding snow. When they finally reached the hide-ee, Jean received the 2nd greatest shock of her young life.

Her knees buckled at the mangled sight. "Oh, good Lord…"

She fainted.

"JEAN!" Scott screamed. He went down to cradle her in his arms, still keeping his eyes on the hide-ee. His gut was churning from two emotions of pity and smug spitefulness.

"Scott! Jean! Are you alright? What just happened?" Storm asked while jumping out of the van and charging towards them. In the act, she almost slipped a couple times. She saw the bloody body and gasped. The ankles were both broken in multiple areas—maybe gunfire? But why at the feet…? The face and chest was cut shallowly as if by knives, but would take a quite a few days to heal. The hair… stained red… two fingers from each hand was broken. And… oh god… a minor injury to the spinal cord, as well.

"Quick! Get the three blankets in the trunk, and something to set these bones back in place! I think we have three finger braces in the glove compartment. Hurry!" Scott took charge. He started to carry Jean into the van.

Just as Storm was about to go get the needed supplies, the woman knelt down in the bloody snow next to the body. Feeling utter compassion and sorrow for the boy she stroked his hair, then left to the van with a prompt jog.

"Hold on, Pietro…" she whispered, on the verge of tears. Not just sad tears. _Hateful _tears. She had a pretty good ideas who or what group dared do this to him. With injuries like that, he could…

he could…

Storm burst into tears.

**A/N: Kinda cliffhanger-ish. I'm gonna adopt a lot of the Ultimate X-men settings and happenings and improvise and detail a bit more. If you haven't read the U-X-men, I suggest you do… They rock! BUT……….. you don't need to know crap about them to understand the rest of the story. Once again, please review! I don't care if you reviewed on the last chappie… REVIEW ON EACH ONE THAT WAY THE AUTHOR HAS FEEDBACK ON EACH TIME! Thank you! Have fun!**


	4. Contemplations & Short Talk

**A/N: I have nothing to say besides R&R. PLAY WITH BLADES AND FIRE!** _muaha!_** Ya wanna know who's in this chappie? Hm? Well, ur gonna have to read to find out! or... just hit ctrl+f and type in the name u want to find... not always efficient if your looking for Cyclops and he's refered to as Scott through the entire chap. have fun!**

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The now conscious **_Dr._** Jean Grey sat in the open space in the rear of the van with Scott Summers by her side and the unconscious mutant Quicksilver in front of her. Storm, AKA Ororo Munroe drove the vehicle with a suppressed countenance of extensive worry. No one answered the phones for as long as they have been trying to contact them. Then again, this was a blizzard! She really shouldn't have expected anyone to answer. What worried her more was that Jean was too disturbed by the surprise injuries and the job weighted onto her shoulders that she couldn't telepathically get to anyone outside the X-van.

The job mentioned was tending to Pietro's many wounds. Well, the few she could at least. Sure, she had done minor surgeries, blood samples, and all of that good stuff, but setting broken bones? Whole 'nother story, there- too long of a story. She knew to do only what she knew and what was urgent, for within minutes they were to arrive at the well-hidden mansion. From there, Beast would handle the rest of the operations.

Jean slowly and gently eased two fingers under his chin. A pulse. She already knew he was alive, but it was proof that eased her while telepathically setting his left ankle's bones back for the temporary splint. His eyes fluttered for a moment and his mouth twitched at the contact to Jean's cold flesh. Yes. Another physical indication of his living. She sighed.

"Calm down, Jean." she whispered to herself. Why should she care this much? It wasn't like his recklessness to get into this condition was her fault. He wouldn't care this much if she was injured and he found her… right?

_It's because you feel like everything is up to you. Soccer? Up to you! Best all-around person? Up to you! It's up to you whether or not he makes it to the mansion. Help him! Jean's conscience told her. She was right. Pietro never really was cooperative or let alone nice to the X-men. Why help him when he's done nothing for them?_

_You shouldn't expect something in return for everything you do, you greedy teen! Once again, she was right. Besides, if she did help him, maybe he would be nicer! After all, judging by these injuries he will be in their care for a while._

Oh, no. What will the Brotherhood think? They'll want him out of our hands, of course! But we have to tell them at least. If we didn't… o gees, more consequences. Jean giggled. She felt an ironic pity for Pietro. Not the same pity for his numerous, painful wounds, but for thinking at super-speed. If thinking this much was enough to drive Jean crazy, than a minute in dead silence would drive Quicksilver mad. Maybe that's why he's always getting into trouble…

"Everything alright, Jean?" Scott whispered. She looked down. She had stopped working.

"Yeah, fine." She flickered a smile and went back to working.

She began to mentally shift the bones. Accidentally, she hit a nerve. Pietro was throttled as if jolts of electricity went through him. He began to sweat profusely and twitched, causing more pain to himself.

"What's happening?" Scott asked.

"Not exactly sure." Jean whispered hurriedly. She grabbed a cloth that had been through the snow and laid it on the teen's forehead. Pietro twitched in shock, but began to settle.

"Thank God…" she whispered to herself again.

It was an awkward sight to see the young and powerful Pietro Maximoff, the master of speed and remarks, laying helplessly and battered at their feet, his life lying solely in the X-men's hands. Jean never took the time to realize that one of her greatest enemies was one year younger than her. In a fight he looked so mature that he could be older than she. He was popular, smart, quick-tongued… perfect guy! Yet with multiple cuts to the face and so many health flaws (due to the wounds) she could tell that Pietro wasn't Mr. Perfect after all. She didn't need to read minds to tell that he had dangerous amounts of secrets locked within his consciousness that could have caused his state of being at this moment.

"Uhn…. J-… Jean?"

Jean actually jumped at the sound of his voice. "Oh, lord, Pietro, it's alright. I'm here," she said as she stroked his caked hair. A stream of tears fell from his eye, following the articulate shape of his face. "Shhh… You're going to be alright."

"Nh… no… he wi-will find m-" he studdered. "I'm sorry." he whispered, nearly a choke and barely audible.

"What?" Scott asked.

"Sangue. H-… must find… nh… Wanda."

"Wanda? Oh, crap. We need to tell them, Jean." Scott said. "Rest, Pietro. You're in good hands." he continued.

Jean felt so terrible when she saw Pietro having so much difficulty falling asleep, his fingers twitching feverishly. She gave a pained look to Scott, then knelt next to Pietro's ear.

"_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses. Slowly, gently, night unfolds its splendor. Grasp it, sense, tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light, and listen to the music of the night. Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams, purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. Close your eyes, let your spirit start to… soar. And you'll live as you've never lived before…" _Jean sang. The boy's breathing had calmed to a quiet, consistent routine.

The red head looked up at Scott who was grinning softly. Though she could not see his eyes, she knew they were shining.

"Your singing… it's beautiful." he said.

Jean only smiled back. Scott held her in a tight embrace. The only sounds they could her were the tires crunching on the snow, and Pietro's graceful, deep breathing. He would live. This was the music of the night Jean sang of. She cherished the moment and hugged Scott tighter.

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**A/N: Encore! Encore! And now for the finally, I shall make you all review!**

**invisible crowd- OOOO! AHHHH!**

**Yes, yes, I know I'm incredible.**

**(crickets)**

**Oh, well. Thanx to my most recent reviewers!**

**SuicidalPhantasy- thanx! Keep reading! (could you review to each chappie? Thank ya :) )**

**SpeedDemonRox- I don't think I've said anything yet, but your pen name is awesome! Glad u like fic! I don't know y either, but I love it when he's fatally injured and then he comes back miraculously. (GASP!) I would _never_kill Pie! NEVER! (_starts rocking back and forth)_ Never, never…. (cough) I'm done now. Keep reading and REVIEWING! Thanx ;D**


	5. Friends and Curious Rivals

**A/N: Okay, sorry people. I've been on vacation, and school's starting, and BLECH! I would like to say that I know how many people have read my chappies. I know at least half of you haven't reviewed! Please! Each chapter is different! Let me know what pairings you want or expect, what you think will happen, what I messed up on… EACH CHAPTER WILL BE DIFFERENT! It doesn't take that long to type a review, but it makes me feel good on the inside for a long time. QUESTIONS OR CONCERNS? PUT EM IN YOUR REVIEW! Now back to your normal program. Thank you for your time.**

**PS- I wrote almost a page more than I usually do. I think that deserves a review, right? XD**

AT THE B-HOOD HOUSE------------

Lance grabbed a plate off the table and began to dish himself out some taco meat on his casadia. "So is Tabby gonna stay with us today? Or is she still hangin' with the X-girls?" He asked. The Brotherhood loved it when Tabitha came over. Not just because she was a girl who wouldn't pulverized them like Wanda (well, not as much), but because she was a change in the weather. When they were boring, she was perky. She was funny and was fun to be with.

"Nah, she said she's out on the town somewhere, but she said she might swing by later tonight and for us not to wait up for her." Blob responded.

"Wait up for her?" Wanda laughed. "Yeah right! Waiting for her is like waiting for the wallpaper to peel off the walls! Toad, I thought I told you to get Pietro!" she hissed.

"Um.. Well… sweetums, ya see. Well, he wasn't… uh… he said he'd… aww man…"

"Out with it Toad!" She snarled. Wanda hated stuttering and she hated Toad.

"He wasn't… well… there." Todd winced. Here it came. He swore he could have seen steam come out her ears.

"PIETRO!" She yelled. The whole house shook, nearly coming off its foundation.

"Why'd ya have to spoil her mood, Toad?" Lance asked, clearly pissed off.

"Yeah, Toad!" Blob echoed.

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"There it is! I see it!" Storm cheered as they could see the gates of the institute in the near distance. She cheered like she had at Evan's basketball game… something rare in her age.

Jean chuckled thinking of that.

"We're almost there, Pietro. Just hold on." Scott told him. Pietro's sunken eyes looked up vacantly as he awoke. Now calm, Jean was able to telepathically put him back to sleep… without singing.

"Jean, try contacting the Professor now," Storm said. "I'll try the phones, too." Ororo picked up Scott's cell phone and dialed the mansion's number. Still no answer. Service was terrible here.

"I got him!" Jean rejoiced. "Yes, Proffesor, Pietro's with us. He's in a fatal condition. Get Mr. McCoy ready… we've got a real task for him now."

"Yes, lets hope its not too late. With Quicksilver's enhanced speed, his bones may be already setting as they are. I'll have an emergency all ready for operations when you get here. Hurry." Xavier replied.

When they pulled up, Jean made a telepathic stretcher and lifted Pietro into the mansion. Beast immediately began working, and Professor Xavier then asked Jean if he had come to consciousness yet.

"Yes, he had," She told him. "He said something about someone coming to get him or find him, and about then someone who needs to find Wanda. It was 'Salm' or something like that."

"Hm, I see. I'll get Kurt to teleport to the brotherhood house and see if they know anything about this. Once the boy regains consciousness again I will see if there is anything he would like to tell us…" Xavier looked quizzically at the air. He then rolled off to contact Kurt.

Moments later, Kitty came running into the foyer (well, technically through the foyer) with Evan and Rogue, one in each arm.

"Like, what's going on, Jean? We heard Mr. McCoy freaking out and well, he doesn't freak out that much." Kitty asked.

"Yeah, man, what's going on?" Evan asked, turning to Scott.

"Nothing we can't handle… I hope… go back to your dorms. I know Kitty and Evan have a Biology test tomorrow, and Rogue, you need to work on your essay," Scott said.

"Oh, and Evan?" Jean asked.

"Yeah?"

"Please don't go trying to figure out what we're doing… for your own good."

"I wouldn't" he replied.

"Evan," Jean said as she turned around. "It's not easy to lie to a telepath." she winked and got ready to teleport with Kurt to the Brotherhood house.

"HEY!" A figure burst through the entry doors with a large, fuzzy ski jacket with a fur-lined hood. She unveiled her hood quickly, due to the skeptical looks. It was Tabitha. "I just came by to pick up my beanie. I think I left it on your hat rack…"

"Boom Boom! Ah, its grea' ta' see ya, girl!" Rogue said.

"Sorry, gotta jet. Lance'll be wanting his car back soon, I bet."

"Tabitha, please come with us for a minute. We're going to teleport to the Brotherhood house." Jean said. She then leaned closer (since Tabitha didn't like talking mentally) and whispered. "Pietro's in trouble."

Tabitha moaned. "Oh, no, what has that boy gotten himself into this time?"

"A LOT more than he can handle on his own. Let's go."

In a quick BAMF! And a stench of sulfur, they were gone. Evan waited for Scott to pass down the halls until he made his move.

"Alright, let's go." he told Kitty.

"Wait! Jean told us not to go sneaking!" she said.

"You always do what your told?" Evan snapped. "C'mon"

They ran through the opposite hall until they got to the elevator. It opened and Beast walked out nervously. Evan and Kitty were already phasing through the floor to the next level, though. The downstairs was nearly all metallic **(A/N: I'm basing this off of the 1st X-men movie when Wolverine wakes up).** After phasing through a couple garages and closets, they finally came across the emergency rooms.

"Down!" Kitty squeaked. Storm was turning their way, still keeping her eyes on the computer monitor. Evan and Kitty phased through the floor. They waited underground (still phased) until they assumed she had left. Kitty stuck her head up first to scan the area. "All clear!" she told Evan and began to help him up. He struggled up and looked around. He noticed someone's figure in the last stretcher. He couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. Creeping around, he and Kitty both felt a stiff hand on their shoulder. Evan jumped and Kitty shrieked.

**A/N: CLIFFHANGER! WHAT DO YOU THINK WILL HAPPEN? TELL ME IN A REVIEW! Thank you.**

**And to my past reviewers(if it was a signed review I underlined your name):**

**Speeddemonrox- hyper is good! Pietro fics are great! But being away so long I haven't updated: not so good…**

**SuicidalPhantasy- Thank you! You set a good example for the people who don't want to review: short, sweet, wondered what'll happen, and said they love my fic (that last one is optional but greatly appreciated ;D ) thanx!**

**Speeddemonrox: another review in one chapter! sniff another great example! Thank YOU**

**Merryb: don't you worry, I don't plan on stopping this fic soon ;)**


	6. Back Story Part I

**A/N: ****Alrighty****, I apologize entirely and sincerely for not posting more ****chappies****—junior year sucks with work ****loadness****… I would five you all my address you I could get what I deserve for not updating, but I value my life. Tough luck, homicidal ****maniacs :\****Anywho****! Here's this. It's been a while. Once again, R &R, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! cough enjoy the chapter.**

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Injury after injury. "Accident" after "accident". It never ended. Not since the fire.

"Pietro!" Erik scolded him. "Get dressed, already!" He pulled the half-awake young boy from out of the bed.

"No… I feel sick," moaned the boy. He went limp in Erik's arms, trying his hardest to stop the monthly ordeal of seeing Xavier. Erik struggled to hold the boy as Pietro now squirmed as best he could to fall back into his bed.

"You do not! Get up already! You're always the slowest! Why didn't you get up when Wanda came in?"

"I'm serious, Dad! I really feel sick!" His bright blue eyes pierced through the eyes of Erik. They looked honest. They were honest, and full of fear. Erik, locked in the boy's gaze, sighed. He set down the boy in the bed and left the room. Pietro could hear him talking on the phone. He had cancelled. No Xavier visit today.

"Now then, tell me what hurts." He sighed. He could be doing better things, but this boy was (for god knows why) attached to him. He would not let the boy down… not now.

"I…I'm not sure…" he cowered. Erik gave him a look. "I mean, it's hard to tell. I just feel like… like… like I'm gonna throw up… but like my hands, my head, and my feet are gonna too. I can't explain it. I'm just not---" the boy held a hand over his mouth in anticipation for the sickness. "Excuse me!" he got up and ran to the bathroom. Moments later Erik sat in the boy's room, dumbstruck, listening to the boy vomit. The water turned on, a moment of the sound of someone brushing their teeth, and then he returned as quickly as he had left. Erik stared at him.

"I'm sorry." Said Pietro, wiping his lips. Erik stared at the boy for a moment more, then began to smile. "What?" Pietro shrunk back.

Erik shook his head and beamed. He clapped Pietro on the back.

Pietro gave him the most confused look he could muster. "What?"

Erik turned to the door and began to leave. He turned back to his son and grinned again, "My boy, you are a mutant."

"How can you tell? I haven't done anything. I haven't bent metal or read your mind or done anything Wanda can do."

"You have no idea what you just did, do you?" Pietro shook his head. "When you left for the bathroom, I didn't even see you leave, but you were gone and I heard you in the bathroom. Here. Try this. Go grab my glasses from the counter in the kitchen and run there and back as fast as you can."

"But, Dad, I feel sick!"

"That will pass. Just do it." Pietro slumped out of bed, rubbing his left temple. Suddenly, he was gone. In the next second he was back, holding Erik's glasses and wiping his lips. "AND you went to the bathroom again in that time?"

Pietro nodded, handing him the glasses, tears slightly in his eyes from vomiting. Erik smiled, pulled the boy in, and hugged him. "You're one of us now. Get some sleep. You don't have to go to see Charles today." He tucked the boy in and ran one hand through the boy's identical white hair.

LATER

Wanda and Pietro sat around the dinner table, arguing over whose power could do what.

"Bet you can't run across the pool!" Wanda yelled.

"Watch me!" Pietro yelled back. He ran to the screen door and waited for Wanda. He lined himself up narrowest length of the pool. Wanda argued that he needed to run across the longer way, but he disagreed, claiming that she didn't specify before. He backed up and got a running start and was on the other side of the pool before the splashes had fallen. "Take that!" he taunted. Wanda sulked.

"My turn!" he ran back to her. "I bet you can't…." he thought. "Hm… I bet you can't… control fire!"

She turned and thought. "Ya know, I don't know if I can do that or not. Let's go find out!" The two ran back into the house and found a box of matches beneath the sink. They went into the dining room (which also served as a study since the library did not have enough room for all of their books). Pietro reached into the bottom of a chest and pulled out a candlestick, stuck in a pewter holder, and lit it.

"Alright, have a go at it" he said as he waived out the match. Wanda sat down in front of the flame and concentrated. The flame danced a little, but nothing special.

"No such luck?" Pietro said. "I guess you just can't do that. Woulda been cool. Hey, that makes me the winner!"

"No fair! I picked stuff that matched up with your power, and then you give me that crappy challenge that neither of us knew if I could actually do it! It's not fair!"

Pietro leaned in, mimicking the Lion King, "Life's not fair". Wanda snapped. She extended her arms and a few books fell off the shelf, flying towards Pietro. One came close to hitting him, but he knocked it away. The book hit the candle over and started to burn.

"Wanda, stop!" he yelled, but her fury continued, along with the fire. Pietro ran out of the room and to the kitchen when he frantically looked for a pot to fill with water. As he waited for it to fill, a heavy hand came down on his shoulder and spun him around.

"What's going on?" said Erik sternly. Pietro panicked. He squirmed out of his grip and ran back to the dining room with the pot and put out the flames. Erik followed soon after. Wanda's temper had subsided, and now she lay curled up on the floor, exhausted, but awake. Erik pulled Pietro in by his wrist with a grip so tight, the boy gasped in pain. "Who… did… this?"

Pietro looked to Wanda, now looking at him with frightful apologetic eyes. He saw her open her mouth to admit. His eyes snapped back to Eric.

"I did" said Pietro. He looked at Eric, but could not hold the gaze. Not because he was afraid (no doubt, he was, though), but because he had lied.

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**A/N: Hope that wasn't too painful. ****Still good?**** Yes? No? TELL ME!!!!!! Yeah, I'll write more of this to come… just have a lot of school ****crappola**** to deal with right now .**** More**** to come! **** I wanted to cover some background stuffs first, so bear with me if you don't like it.**

**I'd also like to ****truly thank all of you who have stayed with my story for so long and review, too. It really means a lot to me. Hope my absence hasn't gotten rid of all of ****you :\**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Wow. It's been 4 years since I started this story. Hope to god my writing's gotten better XD well, you tell me. I may take a new turn with this… try some new styles. Feel free to give me input—it was your reviews and compliments that got me to return and keep writing. Let's see how it goes, shall we?**

"_Down!" Kitty squeaked. Storm was turning their way, still keeping her eyes on the computer monitor. Evan and Kitty phased through the floor. They waited underground (still phased) until they assumed she had left. Kitty stuck her head up first to scan the area. "All clear!" she told Evan and began to help him up. He struggled up and looked around. He noticed someone's figure in the last stretcher. He couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. Creeping around, he and Kitty both felt a stiff hand on their shoulder. Evan jumped and Kitty shrieked._

"They're busy. Don't disturb their work, runts. It's urgent." The two didn't need to turn around. The gruff voice of Logan rang clearly in their ears as they were frozen in place. Busted. "Now why don't you both just head back up the way you came? You know what consequences there can be. Beat it." He picked them up by their collars and gave them a stout push towards the exit. Kitty sulked forwards, but Evan turned back.

"Why we gotta be kept in the dark, man? We're X-men, too, ya know… maybe we could--"

"No."

"—help or something? Or at least let us know what's—"

"No."

"—going on? What's so bad about what's in there anyway?"

"You don't need to know," Logan replied, trying to get Evan back in the direction of the exit. "If the Prof thinks it's necessary, he'll fill you in later. Now BEAT IT."

Kitty pulled at Evan's arm. "Come _on_, Evan! Before he gives us, like, detention or something!" But Evan wouldn't relent.

"What if it's one of our friends in there?"

"It's not."

"How do you know? I wanna know, man! Tell me, or I'll find out on my own!" Evan pulled a spike out of his wrist and charged at Logan. He wasn't trying to attack him, but maybe deflect him and go through any open space by his sides. Kitty shrieked, pleading him to stop. Without hesitation or blink of an eye, Logan had pulled Evan by his wrist, spun him around, and got him into a headlock with one arm, and the other hand with claws out, gleaming, up to Evan's face.

"Listen, bub, and listen good. This is a bit bigger than one of your 'friends' getting a broken leg or some other 'boo-boo'… a LOT bigger. We have a life on the line in that room, and possibly more with anyone else who's associated with the kid in there, and we don't need to add a noisy kid who's out seekin' the newest drama on campus. Now go back upstairs with Kitty, keep your mind on _your_ concerns, and for the love a' god, KEEP IT DOWN. You're in a goddamn emergency sector. Don't make me get _you_ a stretcher, if you catch my drift." And with that, Logan let him go with a fierce push towards the exit. Kitty rushed to grab Evan's arm and pull him out faster.

"Oh, and Daniels…" Logan shouted as he turned the other way. "I'll see you Thursday, 5:30 am sharp in the Danger Room. You too, Kitty."

"How's the kid doin?" Logan asked, leaning in the doorway of Pietro's emergency room.

"Thankfully, better." Xavier replied. "His condition is still critical, and he's lost a lot of blood, but his bones are realigned and hopefully his superspeed will make them stronger as well as reproduce the lost blood quickly. As for this wound to his back—" he held up an x-ray of Pietro's spinal injury "—only time will tell." He sighed. "He's hooked up to an IV now and we have his pulse thoroughly monitored. He's been having fits in his sleep, possibly seizures due to his spine injury, that do greatly make the rest of his wounds worse. Hence, we've strapped him down. This will also stop him from trying to get up once he comes-to. Let's hope he comes-to clearly and will help us keep him safe."

"Who do ya think did this to 'im, Chuck? Think it coulda been those Agents?"

"I don't know… I doubt that the Agents are capable of something –this- destructive. By the time their gadgets would detect Pietro's mutant signature, the boy could easily be long gone. No, I think this is someone else's work. Possibly the Acolytes. I think it's time I gave an old friend a call." With that, Xavier wheeled himself past Logan and out the doorway.

Logan stood there for a minute more watching Beast tediously monitor Pietro's conditions. The boy's fair skin was a assortment of scabs and bruises of all different colors and sizes, his face hardly tranquil in his drug-and-pain-induced sleep. Despite their clean up, there were still many blotches of red in his hair, now turning burgundy and staining the silky white hair indefinitely. All Logan could think was _who the hell did he piss off?_

**A/N: yeah, just a short little chappy to get me rollin again. Hopefully my writing has improved. I actually have a clear summer for once so, who knows, this might be back in motion soon. We'll see. Input helps. Thanks for reading ******


	8. Missing

**A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for such a great response to the last chapter. You've inspired me to write another chapter. I'm going along with this whole "song" sort of theme, if you've noticed. This next chappy's based off the song "missing" from Evanescence. Lemme know what you think of this style. Just trying it on. More to come! Feedback or comments of kinda any sort is great. Oh, and I may try some crazy radical shite in the next few chapters later on, but I URGE you, just stay with it. It'll be worth it! :D**

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This isn't the first time. It's happened before. But not this bad. Not this bad. Oh, god, why this bad…

…_Isn't something missing?_

I've been kidnapped, beaten half to death, and somehow pulled out alive and running away from everything again. I must have some great seraphims lookin' out for me on top… just a little slower than me… because I can still remember the pain when they tore me apart… that… that smile… when they tore me apart. Alone.

_You won't cry for my absence, I know. _

He didn't notice. He didn't care. If he did, he never showed me. Wanda knew not to bring it up. Such a brave girl… I remember those nights, before Father sent her away, she would see me battered, bruised, and bleeding limping without reason down the hall to my room. She knew better than to ask me what happened… yes, she knew better now. For her safety and her concern, it was much safer she never knew how I ended up like this. So on those nights she'd pull me into her room, sit on her bed, and rub my back softly as I cried into her lap. I didn't care if real men cried or not. This wasn't fair. But life never is. He just… didn't care.

_You forgot me long ago. _

I lost loves that way… I was 15… hadn't even moved to Bayville yet. Wanda was long gone. I got cocky. I got sloppy. I fell in love. Or I thought I did. But she was too curious. She'd invite me to her house for dinners with her lovely family so often, and we'd dance in the living room with their old record player, just for that vintage effect. I'd never been so happy with anyone as I was with Alison. But I was young. Stupid. And naïve. And He didn't want me to feel this great.

_Am I that unimportant? _

She often asked me why I wouldn't invite her for dinners at my house. I couldn't explain to her why. I didn't know what she'd think knowing I am a mutant… my father is a mutant… my sister is a mutant who we locked away… "mutant"… why not just call us "defects"? or "scum"?

_Am I so insignificant?!_

One day, she thought she'd surprise me. Oh, my love… we were so young and stupid. She decided to sneak into my room at my house and meet me there to cheer me up. I remember stumbling in the room to see her beaming that intelligent, haughty, delicate smile sitting on my daybed… and then how quickly her face turned to horrified, and a delicate hand rose to cover her gasping mouth at the sight of me. I don't know how long she had been waiting there, or how she had even gotten in, but downstairs, Father and I had a…disagreement. Some may call it child abuse. I just call it fighting with your dad. I came running up the stairs—stumbling to escape enough for sanctuary… I had made a big mistake. We "disagreed", and he beat me with his walking stick, right over the head while I was ordered not to look at him. It hit me by surprise. I entirely forgot I could swiftly escape, my head was so jumbled. He continued to beat me. I needed to escape. So I took the massive whisky crystal jar and threw it at him. It hit the old man square in the chest… just enough to slow him down a little for now. It was then I ran up the stairs to find Alison sitting on my bed, beaming. I heard Father yell at me, and he was on his way up. Before I thought of locking the door and protecting myself, I shoved her into my oak closet and closed the door, just before Father entered the room… upset. He ripped the metal off of my lamp and formed floating pewter spheres, which he sent to bludgeon me, even when I fell to my knees, begging… _yelling_ for him to stop. I clenched my teeth. I tried to strengthen any muscle for protection, but it was no good. I held my sides with my hands to protect them. Consequently, Father sent the bludgeons to crush my fingers. I cried out in pain. While Alison watched from the crack in the wardrobe. Watched my father. My mutant father. Bludgeon his own son.

I kept my head ducked as far between my knees as I could while I was curled up on my floor to protect myself until he was satisfied and had punished me enough. I imagined being with Wanda. I imagined playing in the house. Running away. Far away. Anything to take me away. It's just easier to run.

Once he left, I remained on my knees, curled over, coughing blood and gasping for breath, aching, for what seemed like hours, but must have been just a few minutes. When I struggled to get up on one knee, holding my gut, Alison darted out of the closet to help me up, but in my rage, I shook her off. She protested, and tried to pull me up. "Out." I hissed at her. Hell… why did I have to be so harsh with her… those glassy green eyes with brown rims staring down into my hate-filled eyes. She paused completely, dumbstruck and hurt. I was ashamed and battered. My face turned into a scowl and I yelled at her… I yelled. "GET OUT!!!"

She let go of me, tears swelling in those beautiful eyes, got up, and left, running out of the house. I never saw her again. It took me a few weeks to look publicly-presentable, and by then, no one had seen her.

…_isn't something missing? _

He found out about her. Did something. I don't even want to know what. Her lovely family and her were just… gone. Father briefly scolded me for trying to keep her secret, and said he hoped I wouldn't again. My friends dwindled. Few would talk to me anymore. I was angry. I don't know what I became, but I was broken. I didn't care. All I was was rage, hurt, and hate.

…I missed her laugh… those dances with the crackling of the old record player… I was just so stupid. It was all so stupid. And now I was lonesome.

On my way from town, back to our little secluded house with just Father and me, a man followed me home. He had a knife, and was poor. He took me by my shoulder and spun me around. I didn't care who he was or whether he was going to rob me or ask for directions, but he gave me a chance to do what I had been aching to. I lashed out. I was so pent up… so _furious _at _everything_… I spun around with my icy blue eyes fierce and bright in the moonlight. I saw his fear. I nearly smelled it. I wrenched the knife out of his hand, elbowed his temple with my other arm, followed by a series of blows to his body and head, some using the knife. I was so frenzied, I took his arm and busted it against the elbow, thrusting the bone through the flesh and blood flew out. I kneed him. I threw the hardest punches I had ever thrown. I put my foot on his chest and reached my hand into his grimy mouth, grasped his bottom teeth, fingers piercing the soft gums, and ripped out his jaw. I did all of this before he even had a chance to blink. It was all over before he realized his nerves were screaming. Like mine. I saw the man fall to the ground in such… such delayed time. My mind raced and everything around me was slowed. His knees crumbled with his shoulders tense and hands out, and then he fell forward onto the asphalt with that jawless look of stun in his eyes.

I looked at the jawbone in my hand and was afraid. I never thought, mutant or not, that I could have enough drive or adrenalin to do that… to _anyone._ I breathed in the night air, my head whirling—a rapid madness as the night crept painfully slow around me. I looked above and saw an owls wings beat the air so slowly and gracefully as he ascended to hunt. I had never been so scared… and _empowered_. It scared me how empowered I felt—it was like I wanted more… and nothing.

My hands began to shake as I realized what I had done. Blood crept up around my shoes. I couldn't go home. I wouldn't go home. That house was not a home. I didn't belong. I looked up at the still-ascending owl in the moonlight and thought "This is my life". I dropped the jaw bone on the ground, thanked the man, buttoned my jacket up tight around me, and ran. It's just easier to run. I ran away from that town. I don't think anyone noticed I left, or just didn't care. After a few days, I don't think anyone cared that a bum had been mutilated in the streets.

…_isn't someone missing me? _

I remember Lance playing _My Chemical Romance _songs. I remember him crying out the lyrics, now loud in my head:

_Mama, we all go to Hell._

_Mama, we all go to Hell. I'm writing this letter and wishing you well. Well, well, now, Mama—we're all gonna die. Mama, we're all gonna die! Stop asking me questions! I'd hate to see you cry! Mama, we're all gonna die._

_...I could have been a better son._

Thoughts are whirling through my head. I can't tell if I'm awake or dreaming… or dead. Such a pretty girl… I'm sorry, my dear. I was stupid. But I regret nothing. I hope you find someone else. I hope you're less naïve. I hope you're still beautiful. I hope you're still smart. I hope you're still alive.

Wait. I remember. I REMEMBER! My body jerked and my eyes shot open. My mouth gasped for air like I was drowning and every muscle tensed. _I remembered… why couldn't I remember Alison before? I couldn't remember any of that before_… such pain pulsed through me now. I tried to scream or yell or something, but all I could do was gasp for air. I felt a prick in my arm and my eyelids grew heavy. My body slowly fell back down to the bed.

_I remembered. Everything. It was only a matter of time…_


	9. Remember

**A/N: here's chapter 9. I'm updating instead of sleeping because I love all of you who commented so much. Read, review, and enjoy in whatever order. Maybe it'd be best to have review at the end... **

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"What in God's name do you mean 'he wasn't there'?" Wanda hissed, now walking over to toad, posture hunched and feral like she was about to jump and kill.

"What more is there to say, Wanda?" Lance chuckled. "I think everything that needs to be said is in those three…" his voice trailed and air stuck in his throat when Wanda glared at him and fingernails started to glow. Lance tucked his chin to his chest and stared intently on his quesadilla dish.

"uhm… sugarplum…? I don't know what more ta' tell ya, yo… He's just gone. Window open. I bet he jumped and ran, all lickety-split, streaks of while and blue—that sorta thing…" Todd mumbled and uttered a weak "please don't hurt me" under his breath, slowly pacing backwards, hands up, preparing to fly through the wall… oh, just like old times…

Wanda was paralyzed. That little… pompous, confident, insufferable _bastard!_ How could he think they wouldn't notice him gone right before dinner? She shook her head. Guess they couldn't count on the speedster to be bright all the time. He could have waited until they were asleep at least to go sneaking around past his new curfew, but right before dinner? For god's sake… he must really think them morons… _insufferable prick…_

Wanda clenched her hands into fists and powered up a fierce blue hex, erected her posture, and started to the stairs. That bastard. He'd better be back by the time she got to his room. "Pietro?!" she started calling.

Right as her hand touched the banister, a burst of clouds flew into her face, reeking of brimstone. A moment later, a flash followed, then Jean, Tabitha, and Kurt materialized, smack when Wanda was standing. The witch shrieked and jumped back, fists still ablaze, eyes now furious from surprise and humiliation. Tabitha jumped out of the daze first to notice Wanda about to fire.

"HEY HEY HEY! Guns down, honey! We need to talk" She rushed up to Wanda and held her wrist. Wanda looked in her eyes and knew something was wrong. Worry hit her. _Oh god. Did Agents hit the mansion? Xavier break a wheel? _ She laughed inwardly for a moment, then looked up.

"Jean." She said curtly. Sparks _must_ have flown in between their eyes, because Lance took his quesadilla and quickly scurried into another room, followed quickly by the others.

Jean sighed, frustrated. "This is serious, Wanda. We need you to come with us."

Wanda recoiled and crossed her arms. "Explain."

Jean was stunned for a second. Good _god_ she was truly spawn of Magneto… faultless posture, feet shoulder-width apart, grounded in place and unmovable, jaw sharp and stiff… oh yeah… it was clear now. "Ok fine. But.. you'll kind of need to come with us to help… and get the full effect." Jean took a deep breath and explained how they came across Pietro, briefly categorized his wounds, and finished by explaining what they were doing now for him. "I left him right when Dr. McCoy and Xavier were taking him into the mansion's ER… he should be hooked up to an IV and an oxygen mask, too. We'll be monitoring his heart beat, but we don't really have anything to check against how fast _his_ heart should be beating… so _please_ come with us now… we need to have a talk with Xavier and figure out who would've done this."

Wanda unclenched, now gripped with fear. Kurt and Tabitha stood stunned, having just heard the story for the first time, as well.

"You think a kid that fast could escape nearly anything, ya know…?" Muttered Tabitha, hands folded speaking softly as if she was recalling the memory of Pietro at a funeral.

"Yeah…" Wanda agreed. _Unless he couldn't move…_ she knew all too well how to pull that trick… but for something _this_ fatal? And he'd have to stand and endure it? She shuddered. Perhaps twins really do share pain.

Kurt extended a hand to her, ready to teleport, but Wanda shook her head. She pushed past them and ran upstairs, into her room. The door quickly opened and closed—clearly that was her sanctuary.

"Well, shit…" Jean swore. She didn't care what she said in _this _company. "What do we do now?" She heard a muted yell from upstairs, clanking around, and a loud thump followed shortly by a loud profanity. The three stared at the stairs looked confusedly amongst each other. Just as quickly as the door had opened and closed before, Wanda appeared outside her room, running down the stairs. She held a black leather pouch in her left hand and a mahogany chest tucked under that arm.

"Ok. I'm ready now. Let's-- …what?" She responded to all of the confused looks.

"Hahaha… nussing… let's go." Laughed Kurt as he grabbed her hand and the four jumped back to the X-mansion.

"Is it safe to come out yet?" Freddy asked softly, from the other room with no reply.

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"What happened?" Xavier asked worriedly, quickly wheeling back into the emergency room with the boy. The sight of the mangled teen never ceased to shock him…. The boy was like a lost nephew to him. Son of his best friend—Pietro should have been his godson. He shook his head and focused again on the mental screech he had just received. "Is he awake?"

"No… we quickly sedated him again. Without warning, the boy's eyes shot open and his whole body tensed, like he had just been punched in the gut…It was like he was struggling to breathe." Hank recalled. "I must say, it was actually really eerie. His eyes were open wide and darting around him with super speed, his limbs sporadically twitching then freezing with similar speed… just such an unsettling sight to behold. His bracings were tight enough that it doesn't seem he hurt anything drastically—it just must have been excruciatingly painful. At least now we know the spinal cord injury hasn't completely disabled his nerves. He still may not be able to walk once the bones in his legs heal, though, unless we can mend the rip in the cord, though impulses from the brain are still clearly being sent and received by the limbs." Hank spoke absently as he continued to monitor the boy's machines. "Look here," he pointed at Pietro's ankles. "The flesh has already begun to mend flawlessly where the gunshot wounds were. And higher the bruises are already quickly fading. In a few hours we'll do a CAT scan to confirm his bones are setting and mending in the right places. Some of the wounds have already become scars or disappeared entirely… it's quite remarkable I find…" he rambled on.

Xavier circled around to the side of the bed to inspect the boy. Now that all the caked blood was washed off, things didn't seem so monumentally horrific. Then something caught his eye. "Were all of these scars from this incident? There seem to be more scars around than we first assessed to be injuries."

Stopping his work at the machines, Hank turned to the sleeping Pietro. "You've seen what he does—him and the Brotherhood. The way they act and fight with the students here it wouldn't surprise me if he had a few battle wounds. Especially when he was reunited with Wanda, so I hear."

"Yes, that must be it."

"Can you access the boy's memories from his unconscious state?"

"I can, but it may send him into another seizure if I pry to hard. Furthermore, I don't like to pry. Judging by how quickly he's healing, he should be awake, alert, and back-talking in no time" Charles grinned. "We'll wait until he wakes up to tell us what happened."

Exhaling deeply, he looked at the mutant lying before him, sleeping serenely with his brow gently furrowed. _We'll know when he's ready… soon enough._

"I REMEMBER!!!"

Xavier's head was thrown back—his hands quickly raised to his temples. Another psychic yell.

"Charles! Are you alright?!" Hank ran next to him, bracing him in his chair. "What was that?"

"That was Pietro again. Something's disturbing him—his thoughts are like yells. He mentally yelled out 'I remember'." They looked over at the white-haired mutant to see brow much more furrowed and his cheek bearing a tear. "What has happened to you, Pietro…"

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A snowy day. HOW DID I GET HERE? This is London, I presume. LAD, THERE'S SOMEONE I WANT YOU TO MEET. Why the hell did I come to Nevada… HAS ANYONE SEEN ALISON LATELY? Father, I want to know what happened to my mother. I'M SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO LET YOU GO! You sick twisted bastard—get out before I lose my temper. YOU MUST BE REALLY OLD BUT YOUR LAUGH SOUNDS SO YOUNG. Don't worry, honey, you won't feel a thing. A BEAUTIFUL DAY TO STAY INSIDE. Did you hear what happened to Jack? FUCKING MUTIE DIE MUTANT, DIE! I don't understand why this hurts… I thought you said there was a anesthetic… I TRIED! ISN'T THAT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU?! You'll always be a reminder of all of my mistakes. I LOVE YOU. Wanda's sick and needs professional help. YOU'RE GOING TO DIE IF YOU KEEP THIS UP. Hah, I remember trying to teach you to _speak_ after your power manifested! YOU CAN DO ANYTHING, DON'T LET THE WORLD GET IN YOUR WAY. I hate you, get away from me, mutant. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE CAN'T HEAR MUSIC? Don't worry, it'll heal quickly and no one will know. YOU'RE WORTHLESS. I'm here to save you, Pietro. YOU ARE QUICKSILVER. You can never run from me.

_Sensation washes over me I can't describe it. Pain I felt so long ago I don't remember. Tear a hole so I can see My devastation Feelings from so long ago I don't remember_…

"STOP! M-make it… stop!" Pietro's eyes flashed open. His chest heaved as he gasped for air. The heart monitor showed his heart beating 40 beats each second. Panic. _Where am I What am I doing here Is that Xavier? Beast? _ His eyes flashed around the room.

_Pietro! Breathe deeply and calm down. You're safe. It's ok. I'm going to tap into your brain to stop your adrenalin and help your parasympathetic nervous system maintain metabolic equilibrium. I just need you to relax and breathe, ok?_ Charles communicated telepathically. The mutant continued to panic, hyperventilating as super speeds. _I need you to calm down. You are safe. Now breathe. Look me in the eyes if you understand_.

Pietro shifted his gaze to Xavier, chest still heaving and body clenching. He turned away to yelp when his body pulled against the braces. Clenching his teeth and breathing harder through his nose, Pietro closed his eyes and turned his gaze back to Charles' direction. He gradually slowed his breathing, taking breaths through his nose as he bit his lips. Slowly, he opened his eyes. There was Xavier with his trademark expression of concern looking into Pietro's icy blue eyes. Everything relaxed. The teen unclenched his jaw and took a deep breath before closing his eyes again. Xavier reached to brush the white hair from the boy's forehead.

_If I can remember to know this will conquer me if I can just walk alone and try to escape Into me _

"What happened…?" Pietro asked softly, resisting showing any sign of the pure pain he was in.

"We'll talk about that more later, Pietro. Jean found you injured in a snow bank and we hurried you here. You'll be staying here for a while. Relax as best you can. Alright?" Xavier answered.

Pietro nodded. Even without penetrating the teen's mind, it was clear to Xavier that his mind was far from understanding or clear, but he seemed too tormented to press further.

"Good. Hank will be staying with you for now. Try and get some rest and relax. You're already healing marvelously. I need to attend to some guests in the foyer." And with that, Charles exited the room and made his way down the long stainless steel hallway, leaving Dr. Hank McCoy to stare a little dumbfounded at the mutant teenager in his custody, thinking at super speeds yet bound unmoving, now staring up at him blankly.

_Sensation washes over me I can't describe it pain I felt so long ago I don't remember…_

"Uh hi, Pietro. I guess just listen to Xavier…" he said, turning back to the machines. The heart rate had dropped to 25 beats per second… normal, he supposed.

"Where's Jean." Pietro said unblinking.

_If I can just walk alone and try to escape…_

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**A/N:**

So that was chapter 8… hope you like it :) sorry if it's a bit jumbled. I'm trying to make my chapters longer, too, while making the story off of the top of my head. **Thank you all very much for the kind reviews! Each review brings me that much closer to updating again and again.** Please also tell me what you think of the story so far—anything you don't like? I'm kind of mixing the X-evo universe with the classic X-men and what I think would make them work together.

Is there anything you do NOT want to see and is there anything you'd like to see or see more of?

There will be a lot more powers fun, so hang on… and a lot more music. I think Pietro may go into the background for a few chapters, but not really. You'll know what I mean later—just stay with it.

Also, the song for this chapter (a little shoved in there) is "Remember" by Disturbed. Yes, I own good music. XP


	10. The Search Begins

**A/N: Alright well I really should be sleeping since I've retracted the plague, but I got a nice comment and story alert + tonight, and those encourage me to write, so seriously, keep 'em up. Also, I'm on spring break before a whomping spring quarter at UCLA so goddamn I'd better make good use of this time. Punctuation may be sparse since I'm running on reserve brain power right now. You know what bugs me a lot about ? Its web layout—makes a lot of writing look like a little… :P (TOTALLY stole a bit from Black Books… though it's an insult I hope soon mainstreams.)**

**Enjoy and please comment **

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_Years earlier._

Pietro sat at the sad excuse for a desk, which was nearly raw wood nailed together, but it was something. One couldn't expect the finest of things all the time, though on could hope. His elbows rested on the desk, his fingers woven in his hair as he stared down intently through the wood surface. His eyes were glazed over and vacant. On the desk in front of him was a leather journal opened to a fresh page. Where to start. What do you say after it's been this long? Does it even matter by then, or would you be heard? _She must hate me by now_ he thought. He ran his fingers through his hair again and took a painfully slow sigh. He picked up the pen and began to write.

"I miss you, Wanda." He set the pen back down. Another deep breath. He picked up the pen again, and began to write fervently.

"I can't begin to say. I miss the carefree childhood days we had, when life was still simple. When we had a father. Perhaps you were lucky to be removed from him sooner—I'd endured too much before I realized I should go. I wouldn't call you lucky, though." He paused. "I have seen what it's like in the asylum. I tried to figure out ways to free you but I just couldn't find a way. I was afraid to even get your attention. So many years have gone by, I wonder if you'd even want me as your brother. Hell, after all that's happened, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't. I wasn't there for you, but I hope you understand that I couldn't do anything. Erik just got too powerful. He's become obsessed with his Magneto personage, and I think he hardly remembers who he once was… then again, it's blurry for me too… As time passed, he became more resentful of us, Wanda. He said our mother was scum, and his one true regret, since she was his one and only 'moment of weakness' with a homo sapien. He's completely lost all love for the things around him and loses more of himself each day. He would ramble on about what would be in his superior new world, creating his own mutant language. He lost himself to this conquest, Wanda. I think forever. I want no part in it. I see what it's done to him. And so I ran. Like I always do. Except I didn't have you to run to. So I'm still running.

Please. Remember how much I love you and who we used to be. The past is still a bright place—maybe the light will carry on in the future. I hope you're safe. I will come for you once I find a way. I promise."

He closed the brown leather book and tied it shut. He took only a moment to examine it before shoving it into a small bag behind him.

The room was large, a loft with no ownership in the corner of the city. He didn't know which city, but it was home for now, and it was far from wherever home used to be. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all concrete. Light flooded in through single paned windows that had seen better days. A single shower head jutted from the wall and a toilet sat in the corner of the room. Against one of the walls lay a solitary mattress. This was home for now and it felt right. This neighborhood fit. There were plenty of mutants, and plenty of mutant haters. The city was a living model of Darwin's theories. Those who would survive would not only be the fittest, but the cleverest.

Most of each kind traveled in packs. If one were out on their own, another of their kind was close behind for backup. It's just how things were done. Pietro wanted nothing to do with it, though, and tried best to tread alone, until he was forced to pick a side.

Both sides knew him.

Both sides hated him.

Both sides wanted him.

Did they know he was a mutant? Who cared? They rarely saw him at all. Only when he felt like being noticed, when he walked the streets at normal pace, just to be seen. This was one of those times.

Pietro thrust his hands into his pockets and walked confidently. Purposefully. At least that's what it looked like to those around him, though he was completely lost. He walked down the streets by the shore front, past the market stands, past the thugs smoking on the staircases to run down buildings, and past the whores in the alley. He'd try to look normal to see what it was like, but only look it—never be it. Never wanted to be normal. Maybe accepted, but not normal. Normal meant you were slow. Dim. Expendable.

_Curiosity. The young and the free. There for all to see. _

Glares.

_Entranced, burned by the flame. Have your senses taken leave into the fire of true belief. It's the orgy of the free._

Well, it wasn't all trying to look normal.

"Hey, gramps!" Bingo. He closed his steely blue eyes and flickered a smirk to himself, and then turned. Show time. He turned around. Three guys. Oh, this was the best way to spend an afternoon.

_It was at first as if they were shadows._

Big muscles. Shaved heads. Small dicks. Thugs. Pietro cocked his head. The hardest part now—waiting. "Yeah, gramps! How'd you get such white hair? Does the carpet match the drapes?" They jeered. Still waiting. Not enough.

"What's the matter, gramps, can't hear us? Better turn up your hearing aid!" They highfived. Good enough. Pietro walked closer. "Actually, I have a question for you all." They all perked up with his boldness. Each side expected a fun time. PIetro fingered the butterfly knife in his pocket. He knew he was going to have more fun.

_Shimmering visions by the light of the dancing flame Bodies in motion, the sound of the ocean Came into vision on the night of the dancing flame _

He leaned against the lamppost near the thugs and spoke up, "Hey, you know when you're doing your normal threesome thing over the weekend and the moonlight's bouncing off your heads and your asses, does that not get a bit confusing?" He grinned to himself.

One of them stood up in protest. Another pulled the first down and asked "Just what are you implying, slim? We look fruity to you?"

Pietro shrugged innocently and ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, I wouldn't know. But really," he gestured to one of them "why don't you look at your friend and tell me?" The thug scowled and looked over at his cohort in the center, then looked back at Pietro. He was now chuckling, his white teeth flashing in the light, eyes silhouetted in shadow. The thug did a double-take back to his friend, eyes bugged. The center thug's throat was slit from ear to ear, spurting blood. The thugs instantly panicked and were terrified, trying to tend to their fallen comrade. Pietro thumbed off the blood on the blade in his pocket. He knew what had happened, but to them, it looked like he'd hardly moved.

One of the thugs looked up from his dying friend, eyes flared. "I'll kill you!" he screamed at Pietro, but he didn't move from the lamppost. His amusement was so great, he just stood their watching with raised eyebrows, chuckling to himself. The skin head got up and began to charge at him, but was warned by his friend not to. "Why?! He's just an old man! He's not going anywhere!" And he swung his fists at the speed demon. By the time his fists reached the lamppost, there was no target there to hit, but the lamppost itself. Pietro ducked under his arm and stood nose to nose in front of the skin head. He smirked and held the thug's neck with one hand to keep him from running. The look in the skin head's eyes was identical to the vagabond that had tried to mug him years before. It didn't scare him. It was liberating.

_What of your own free will Bodies are writhing still There in the moonlight with my head up held high Wish I could keep on walking by, but I Find myself drawn to you I let you do what you want to do You had your wicked way There on the site of the dancing flame _

"First off," he thrust the knife into the man's gut. "I'm not old." He spun around him and put his head right against the thug's head from behind with his knife to his throat and mouth to his ear. "I'm a _mutant_," he hissed. Slice. He dropped the skinhead. "And secondly…" he looked over his shoulder to the other thug, who still hovered over his dead friend. Pietro sped beside him, crouching on the stairs above the dead thug. The last live skinhead looked up, petrified. He held the thug's chin with one hand and pierced his eyes with his own. "I'm looking for someone. It'd be your pleasure to help me find him." The skin head nodded quickly. "Good boy." Pietro patted his cheek.

* * *

Jean pulled her hands from Pietro's temples.

"What are you doing? That's not all of it." Pietro heaved breaths, worn out from remembering so much. "There's still more. I need your help to remember."

Jean rubbed her hands together and looked away. "Pietro, I can't! If I push any more, your entire consciousness could crack in two! It's too much for me, too. Your memory is so rapid, I can hardly keep up with it and try and mend it at the same time. I just can't." She wrapped her hands around her shoulders. "It's been hard enough seeing you mutilated…let alone seeing you mutilate others."

"Wait wait wait, _what_?" Tabitha asked, shocked.

"For the love of… could you all please give us some privacy? Jean, come on. I need to know what happened next." Pietro snapped at her, still strapped to the stretcher.

"Pietro, no! You just woke up from a damn coma! No more! Besides, the Professor would be furious if he knew I even pushed your memories to this point. Look at how exhausted you are." Jean gestured to him.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. I'm not doing any more until the Professor says it's ok. I don't see what's so urgent about these random memories anyway. You can wait."

"Mewaitareyoujoking?!" He shook against his binds then hissed in pain when the pulled against his wounds. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Please, Jean."

"I'm sorry, Pietro. I can't. At least not yet." He sighed and closed his eyes in frustration.

Suddenly he felt fingers running through his hair. He looked up to see Wanda hovering over him. She smiled lightly, but he could see right past her calm countenance and see her fear for him. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine." He reassured her. She smiled lightly and shook her head. She looked up at the others.

"Could we have a little privacy just for a moment?" The others left.

"Pietro… why did you leave? What were you even doing?" she asked him, looking over his charts.

"Wanda, don't ask me that when I'm pinned down…"

"Why not? So you can run away from me? You need to stop these secrets now."

"I can't."

"What were you doing?"

"I can't tell you." He clenched his eyes shut and sighed. "Just believe me when I say I had to."

"Pietro! This isn't a joke! You nearly died and you can't tell me what even for?" She clenched her fists.

He shut his eyes tightly again and sighed. "No."

She pulled her hair back with both hands, exasperated. "Was it the sentinels?"

"No."

"Was it Father?"

"Wanda, I can't tell you."

"So it was Father."

"I didn't say that. Stop guessing. It's better you don't know."

Before she could retort, Doctor McCoy and the Professor entered the room. "That's enough, Wanda. He'll tell us when he's ready. For now he has much more grave healing to do." Xavier tapped into Pietro's head, making him suddenly feel very groggy. Pietro yawned and fell asleep. "I trust you and your friends will not be going back out into the storm today. Rooms have been prepared for you. Jean will show you to them." Wanda knew that he meant for her to leave. She picked up her mahogany chest and bag, and left the room.

* * *

A/N: Kinda short chappy, iono you tell me. Song (the words in italics) this time was "Night of the Dancing Flame" by Róisín Murphy. I think it fits the scene's mood perfectly. Definitely or it to hear it, or play it while you read. I played it on repeat as I wrote it :P

Once again please read, review, or critique if you feel like it. Suggestions, concerns, etc. whatever. Sorry for the late post, but it's all I can do these days. I won't end this fic, though, so keep checking in! :D 


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